


The Legends

by ArtsyRevolutionary (3057)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood and Violence, Falling In Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Murder-Suicide, Serial Killer Soda Kazuichi, Serial Killer/Writer AU, Writer Tanaka Gundham, i guess??, soudam - Freeform, talent swap AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3057/pseuds/ArtsyRevolutionary
Summary: Writing came easy to him. The words were just something he understood. He could feel them, feel their pain, and create an eternity with their power. The other didn’t understand his talent. The other looked at words and saw emptiness. Instead of feeling a sense of purpose when staring at a blank page, he felt threatened. Well, the two had their strengths and weaknesses. You see, the writer could never have the guts to match the body count of the other. It’s a skill refined after years of work. And while gore was a common subject between the two, the writer couldn’t look at any without retching, and the other couldn't describe the scene without staring at a keyboard for an hour. But they enjoyed their dynamic.
Relationships: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham
Kudos: 10





	The Legends

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Serial Killer/Writer talent swap AU with Soudam.

Writing came easy to him. The words were just something he understood. He could feel them, feel their pain, and create an eternity with their power. The other didn’t understand his talent. The other looked at words and saw emptiness. Instead of feeling a sense of purpose when staring at a blank page, he felt threatened. Well, the two had their strengths and weaknesses. You see, the writer could never have the guts to match the body count of the other. It’s a skill refined after years of work. And while gore was a common subject between the two, the writer couldn’t look at any without retching, and the other couldn't describe the scene without staring at a keyboard for an hour. But they enjoyed their dynamic.

The writer was a constant, reliable alibi, for starters. A base of operations. A home to go to at the end of the night to patch up any sliced flesh and wipe up any bloodstains. His hands were gentle, his wits razor sharp. And as for the… other, he was a way to test out new ideas, in a way. The writer makes a scene, as gory and bloody as his heart desires, and the other would then go see if it’s possible. It always is. The writer is good at things like that. Realism and such.

They hadn’t always been together. It’s odd for them, thinking to a time when they weren’t. A shocked witness turned curious alibi became the beginnings of a long and beautiful friendship. To be fair, the other was too reckless those days. Even without the neon hair, his attitude and lack of common sense was a dead giveaway. And the writer, well, let’s just say he was a little too eager for some excitement.

But life went on. An apartment full of incense, the floor covered in animal fur. The dead body in the locked bathroom, and a drawer of scissors a little too sharp to be inconspicuous. The rhythmic tapping of the keyboard late at night and the cleaning up of bloodstains before that morning’s breakfast.

But truthfully, they were just like any other couple. So deeply in love, and so, so happy. It was a welcome change from their childhoods. It started with a single question. Sitting on the couch, a month after living together and three after first meeting. The other looked him in the eye, shrugged, and just said, “Come out with me sometime.” The writer was taken aback, but curious as always. “To kill, or…?” The other just laughed, slinging an arm around the writer’s welcome shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. If you want, sure, but I meant like, a date, ya know?” The writer simply stared at the man before his face flushed a brilliant shade of red. The other laughed as he hid behind his scarf. He did eventually agree to the date, however. Lots of careful planning later, the two were having a nice dinner by the seaside. One of their more extravagant alibis, but functional nonetheless. And when the other saw the slow, infatuating drip of blood red wine from the writer’s dark lips, he was captivated. The writer did too have to admit that the way the other spoke so freely and so passionately was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen in all his life.

When the writer finally became published, his works selling quickly, they couldn’t be happier. The other was proud of his boyfriend. Plus, the writer provided enough money that the other could quit his shitty job and start killing full time. A win - win situation. They started growing bolder. The other started practicing with weapons other than his trusty scissors, and the writer finally got his first kill. They got married that fall.

It was amazing. Mesmerizing. The writer finally got over his fear of blood, and the other became a bit more eloquent. Now much more an accomplice than an alibi, the writer fell in love with the rush all over again. The other was ecstatic. And in reading the writers work, fell in love with poetry. Now much more parts of each other than two separate beings, they lived off of the rush. Romantic poetry sweetly whispered to one another, embracing over someone else’s corpse. The writer found a love for firearms. The other started reading Charles Dickens. The books grew dark and the murders, creative. It was the best time of their lives.

But nothing good lasts forever. Soon enough, the detectives caught their trail. They knew they didn’t have long. Selling their apartment and stocking up on gasoline, they ran. The writer quickly found homes for the pets they had to leave behind. It was painful, but they both knew the animals had a chance at a better life with another family. Besides, their time was coming up, and the last thing either of them wanted was for their pets to be caught in the crossfire.

The police knew where they were. They were coming for them. It was a time of adrenaline. Of lucky guesses and heists and news coverage. They even robbed a bank for the first time. And oh how beautiful it was seeing the tellers’ faces as a famous author walked up to them and pulled out an AK. They ran for as long as they could. They ran for so long, dragging the whole world with them towards their inevitable downfall. Robbing countless gas stations for nothing but quenching the other’s sweet tooth, and fuel for the car.

But their end came swift, as they would’ve hoped. A cold, rainy night on the dark streets of a city neither bothered to learn the name of. The sirens were blaring, too close for comfort. They were cornered. Kneeling in each others arms, soaking in the dead of night, they knew they wouldn’t come out of this alive.

When the police finally found them, they were already dead. The writer’s bullet stuck in the other’s heart, and the other’s scissors stuck in the writer’s throat. Their hands were clasped together as they lie, unmoving, in that dark alleyway.

They were buried next to each other. A smaller graveyard in the city of their first apartment, where it all started. Their names inscribed along with their wrongdoings. People kept reading the books. Memorializing the first ever victims the other had claimed. The story of the two were kept alive in that small town. And when someone mentions their name, what they remember was the love. The adrenaline. The life of beauty and the blood the two danced in. They were immortalized as local legends, in a way. The lovers, the killers, the writers, who lay dead in each other’s arms.

Their wills gave all their possessions to their old dog.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This has been a small little side project i've been trying to perfect for a while now, and I finally decided to post it! I actually don't have much to say here ahaha. Either way, thanks for reading!!


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